I've been writing a little story (well, I wouldn't really say 'little') about Brom. Basically, it's the story of his life from when Saphira hatches for him to when he arrives in Carvahall to watch over Eragon. Hopefully, you've all read Brisingr, so I won't be giving anything away! (And yes, the first chapter is a bit long!)
Chapter 1: Saphira
“Brom!”
The lump under the mass of blankets stirred. It was an odd lump, almost the size of a large dog. Only a tuft of brown hair could be seen over one of the edges.
“BROM! Get out of bed!” cried a woman’s voice from downstairs.
The lump moved again, this time moaning, “I’m sleeping, Mother. It’s Sunday!”
“Brom Holcombson, I demand you to get down here this instant!” called the woman again. This time it was easily heard from the foot of the stairs.
Upon hearing his full name, Brom flung the covers off of his bed, revealing a small boy, no older than ten. His hair lay at odd angles across his head, his mouth open wide in a yawn. Sitting up, Brom rubbed the sleep from his hazel eyes. “What is it Mother?” he asked, annoyed.
“The elves are here! And they’ve brought eggs!”
Brom stopped dead. Removing his hands from his eyes, his mouth formed an ‘o’, but said nothing. “Are you sure? Do they have pointy ears?”
A deep sigh came from the woman. “Yes, I’m sure. Now get dressed and come down here!”
Almost slipping on the rug at the edge of his bed, Brom flew to the dresser, removing a blue tunic. Throwing off his nightshirt, he placed the tunic over his head, tossing the old one in a pile next to the door. From another drawer he revealed a pair of shabby brown pants, also putting them on. Fully dressed and all weariness gone, Brom raced to the door, only after knocking the top of the frame three times with his hand. He ran down the stairs, skipping every other step, muttering, “Wow! I hope I get picked.” When he finally reached the kitchen, he skidded to a halt in front of his mother, who was gazing out at the packed street. “Where are they?” he gasped.
She rose from her seat and strode over to Brom. Patting his hair flat, she said, “In the center of the village, near Nelick’s.” Nelda looked at her son with stern eyes. “Now, don’t be upset if you don’t get picked. This is your first year, so you will have a couple more opportunities.” She kissed him on the head and embraced him.
“Mother, I’ve got to go,” he complained. Squirming out of her arms, he made a leap for the door, hitting the frame as he went.
Brom ran through the village of Kuasta until he reached the very center. There, a mass of people circled the five elves, three of them holding up glistening dragon eggs. Children were dancing around the unexpected visitors, laughing and singing. Seeing no openings, Brom dove down and crawled beneath the endless stream of legs, almost knocking down a few people. When he came to the center of the crowd, he stood up and brushed the dirt of his pants. He gazed up at the beautiful men with awe. Each of the elves had long, silver hair streaming down their backs, a dagger at their hips.
Finally, the older of them raised his hands for silence. The villagers fell silent almost immediately. Smiling, he said, “Thank you.” His silver hair shimmered in the morning sun, making him look even more magnificent. “Thank you, for your warm welcome. My comrades and I have been traveling for many moons and are delighted to see you all. This year, the dragons have granted us four eggs. So far, one of them has hatched. Therefore, you children have three to try. Whichever of you is chosen, if any, will accompany me and my fellows to the castle of Illirea, where you will begin your training.”
He strode over to his fellow elf nearest him. “And may I introduce to you Sheelin–” Before he could say another word, however, the villagers roared with applause. Brom could tell they were just as glad as he was to have the foreign visitors come to Kuasta. It had been a long time since their visit with the eggs, which was over ten years ago. There also had never been a Dragon Rider from the town in over two centuries, which meant to be picked today would be among the highest honors.
Each time one of the elves was introduced, the people applauded until he finally came to himself. “And I am Oromis. I am one of the Elder Rider mentors, who will be teaching –” A deafening roar filled Brom’s ears as he clapped along. Oromis raised his hands once more for silence. “Thank you, thank you,” he beamed. “Now, let the ceremony begin!”
Brom clapped his hands over his ears, expecting another applause. This time, however, everyone was quiet except for the whinnying of a nearby horse. Oromis seemed pleased with himself. “Please,” he instructed, “will all children between the ages of ten and sixteen step forward.” All of the children that were too young and the adults stepped back as the specified age group took a step or two towards the elves. Hesitating, Brom took three. There were twelve of them all together. Oromis eyed the children with satisfaction. “Hmmm,” he thought. “Twelve… Will you all please line up in front of Sheelin, here?”
Brom moved toward the said elf and stepped ninth in line. With a motion of Oromis’s head, the three of his comrades carrying the eggs stepped forward as well, holding the baby dragons out in front of them. There was a red, silver, and finally a blue. As each person took their place to touch the eggs, Sheelin asked them their ages. The eight children before him said nothing as they went from egg to egg. To their dismay, none of the eggs reacted to their touch.
Sheelin asked him his age and when he said that he was ten, gave Brom a skeptical look. He nodded, however, and motioned for him to touch the first egg. Trembling from head to foot, Brom took a wary step toward the red one. Feeling like he might hurt the baby dragon inside, he barely grazed the surface with his hand. Nothing happened. Going to the next polished stone, he did the same thing. When he reached the blue one though, he placed a full hand on the cold surface. Nothing happened, just like the silver one. His head hung low, he stepped away from the last elf and started to head home. “Wait!” cried the elf.
Whirling around, Brom saw that the blue egg was wobbling feebly in his hands. He dashed over to it, a huge grin on his face. His heart leapt with excitement as the elf placed the now shaking egg in his hand. As the seconds drew on, the baby dragon inside began rocking violently back and forth. Struggling to keep a hold of it, he bent down and set it on the dirt. Everyone in the crowd held their breath as the egg shook horribly on the ground. Some of the younger children stepped forward to get a better look at what was happening. Brom’s heart was beating so hard he felt it would leap out of his chest at any second. A long crack formed along the blue stone.
Oromis walked over to Brom and kneeled down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Well done, son,” he whispered. Brom didn’t look up at the elf, but kept his eyes transfixed on the rocking egg. Then suddenly it stopped. Another crack had appeared along the top.
The egg burst open into a million pieces of sharp shards. Brom covered his eyes from the flying fragments of shell. The crowd roared with joy. He opened his eyes to gaze upon the baby dragon that now stood before him. Its gem-like scales glittered a bright sapphire in the sun, almost blinding him. Although it was covered in a thin layer of goo, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Stretching its wings out for the first time, the dragon seemed to have an approved look on its face. The baby was no larger than a small cat, but looked magnificent. It uttered a meek cry and turned toward Brom.
Standing up, Oromis cried, “A new Rider is born!” Brom’s fellow villagers clapped and cheered so loud that a deaf person could have heard it. The baby dragon jumped and trembled with fear, its large sapphire eyes darting everywhere. Oromis glanced down at where Brom sat, and exclaimed, “Now, pet your dragon for the first time.”
Brom was so memorized by the little creature sitting in front of him that he barely noticed what the elf had said. I’m a Rider! he thought. Slowly, he offered his hand to the dragon, which chirped and took a wary step forward. It lifted its head to meet his hand.
And they touched.
Liquid fire seared though Brom’s hand and up his arm. It was a burning, tingling pain like had never felt before. He jumped back in alarm and let out an involuntary cry. The villagers gasped as he leapt back into a few of them. Brom clutched his left hand, rocking back and forth on the warm dirt until the pain had subsided. A small tingle remained in his hand, however. He looked over at the baby dragon, which seemed unaffected compared to him. A puzzled look covered its face.
Then Brom felt something touch his conscious. He pulled away from it, putting up his mental barriers. The tendril of thought was still there though, and continued to crash against his barriers until he could take no more. The two minds connected then, and even when Brom tried to block it out, the thought was still there. Was that the dragon? When we touched, did its mind become one with mine? I wonder if all Riders join minds with their dragons. He glanced up at Oromis, who was smiling. “Wha- what happened?” he exclaimed. Brom looked down at his hand, which now had a silver oval that took up most of his palm. It seemed to flicker with each breath he took, growing brighter and brighter each time.
“You have been linked with your dragon. That spot on your hand,” he gestured toward Brom, “is the mark that all Riders have.”
Still clutching his left hand, he asked, “Can it speak?”
The old elf chuckled. “Of course dragons can speak. They aren’t dumb brutes most people think them to be. They are as intelligent as you or me. Now, talk to him. Ask him his name.”
“How do you know it’s a he?”
“I don’t. That’s why you have to ask.”
Brom gulped and turned to the dragon again. It looked so small and meager he felt it might fall over dead with starvation at any moment. He leaned forward and scooped up the small creature, cradling it in his arms. Almost immediately it nuzzled his shirt and wrapped its tail around his upper arm. Standing up, he asked, “How?” to the elf, Oromis. He winked and tapped his head.
Brom heard a cough from behind him and whirled around. He had forgotten the entire village was watching him this whole time. A tint of pink hit his cheeks. Slightly embarrassed and now conscious of himself, Brom glanced down at his dragon. Its scales were the deepest blue he had ever seen. He closed his eyes and groped with his mind for the dragon’s. It was proved not hard to find. He sensed a very human-like intelligence about, like Oromis had said. Taking a deep breath, he thought to the baby dragon, Are you a he or a she?
At first, there was no response. Then, Yes.
Puzzled, Brom asked, You are both?
No.
Then you are a he?
A faint hint of laughter emitted from its thoughts. No.
So you are a girl!
Again, no response. Then, Yes.
Brom flicked his eyes back open. The she-dragon stared back at him, her eyes unreadable. A name. What will I name you? Your scales are so beautiful, like sapphires… A thought came to his mind. Asking her if she liked the name, she answered, Yes, baring her ivory teeth in what looked like a smile.
“Well?” asked Oromis calmly. “Have the two of you decided on a name?”
Brom smiled. “Yes. Her name is Saphira.”
The crowd erupted in cheers. He could make out of couple things the villagers were shouting, like “Hail Brom Holcombson!”, “Hail Mighty Saphira!”, or “Long live the Riders!” Most loudly of all, he heard a very familiar voice yelling, “Brom! Brom! It’s Holcomb, your father!” Smiling, Brom waved at his father, all of a sudden aware of a trembling against his chest. He looked down at Saphira, who was shaking from head to tail, her eyes darting wildly. Not knowing what really to do, he tried soothing her with a soft tune in his head.
Then his father burst through the mass of people, nearly tripping over the many feet, and ran for Brom. He was just about to embrace is son when he realized the baby dragon in his arms. Instead, he shook his hand, laughing. Holcomb gazed at Saphira with awe, then looked back up at Brom. “It is beautiful,” he said.
“She has a name, Father, and it’s Saphira. See how her eyes are like sapphires?”
Holcomb stiffened are Oromis walked toward them. “Ah,” he said, “you must be the boy’s father.”
“Yes,” replied Holcomb curtly. His mouth twisted into a small frown, his eyes staring hard at the elf.
Taken slightly aback, Oromis looked to Brom. “I’m afraid I didn’t get your name, son.”
Before he could answer, however, Holcomb snapped, “He’s not your son, elf. Call my son by his name.” The grip on Brom’s shoulder tightened.
Ignoring his remark, Oromis continued to stare at Brom with an almost blank look.
Hesitating, he said, “Brom. My name’s Brom Holcombson, sir.” Saphira let out a small chirp and started to gnaw on Brom’s navy blue shirt.
Oromis nodded in approval, widening his everlasting smile. “And since you are now a Dragon Rider, Brom, you will call me Master or Ebrithil,” he instructed, “and no other name. Glaedr applies to this rule as well.”
“Glaedr?”
“He is the dragon I was paired with, just like you and Saphira. Unfortunately, Glaedr was unable to accompany me here, so he will be waiting for us at Illirea.”
Brom was just about to ask why when Saphira bit threw his shirt, a small yelp escaping his lips. Looking down at his shirt, he saw a small red dot bleeding through the blue fabric, growing rapidly bigger. Saphira! he said. What did you do that for? A sudden wave of ravenous hunger brushed against his mind. Brom looked up at his father, who was still glaring at Oromis. His master, however, was humming a merry tune and watching as the villagers dissipated. Only the four of them remained in the center of the village. He other elves had gone off with Nelick to the town inn to drop their things off. “Father,” said Brom. “Saphira’s hungry. May I go home and feed her?”
Not braking away from his icy stare, Holcomb murmured, “Yes son. Take the dragon inside.”
“And don’t forget to pack,” added Oromis. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow at sunrise.”
“Leaving?” Holcomb snapped. “My son is going nowhere with you people.”
Oromis’s previous smile had now vanished. “I’m afraid to have to object with you, good man. Brom and Saphira must go to my people for his training. It is required of all Riders to be taught by a Rider mentor in Illirea.”
Holcomb’s eyes bulged and his fists clenched. “Oh yeah? What if he doesn’t want to go tramping half way across Alagaesia to be school by some old elf? You can’t make him go.”
"But I do want to go –”
"Do as you’re told, Brom. Go inside with Saphira.”
Brom muttered, “Yes, Father,” and began walking back to the house, cradling the baby dragon in his arms, Half way down the street, he could still hear his father and Oromis quarreling. It sounded like they were close to blows now.
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